Getting Hitched
by StarmyLee
Summary: Jonathan comes down with a fever, and while Jervis tries to take care of him he soon finds out his attentions only manage to bring Crane to treat him awfully. Jervis however, knows how to convince his partner to ask forgiveness, and after a most weary night they decide that as dysfunctional as their relationship might be, they like it this way, and are ready to make it official.
1. Chapter 1

**Getting Hitched **

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_xx_

_"__If you tame me, then we shall need each other. _

_To me, you will be unique in all the world._

_To you, I shall be unique in all the world."_

_Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, "The Little Prince" _

xx

xx

Jonathan's head suddenly took on spinning.

Again.

He closed his eyes and rubbed them thoroughly with trembling hands just a moment before his vision started to blur.

Again.

An uncomfortable chill ran down his spine, passed his stomach, and reached his weak legs, making him realized how bad he actually felt. He put both hands on his face.

Without even realizing it, he started massaging his temples increasingly harder, hoping it would make the migraine go away, when someone knocked loudly at the door of his lab. The sound boomed in his pained head like a cannon shot.

"What is it, Jervis?!" Crane shouted, sounding harsher than he intended, but that awful sensation was intensifying, so he thought he could be forgiven.

The door opened a little, and the top hat of Jervis Tetch peered timidly from behind it, followed by his blond head, and then the man himself, with a cup of tea in his hands.

"I'm sorry to bother you Jonathan, but I thought you could use a break. You've been locked up here for five hours, and even skipped dinner."

Jervis cautiously approached his working table and placed the teacup right under his nose. Then he just stood there, watching.

The aromatic vapors raising from the freshly brewed English Breakfast were tempting, but the sight of his companion standing motionless and doing nothing was unnerving in an even more powerful way, emphasized by his growing sickness.

When his partner interrupted his already messed up working schedule, he could never decide whether the blond was sincerely worried about his well-being or simply decided that he was tired of him tinkering and it was time to demand attention. More often than not, it was the latter; Jervis got lonely quite often.

This time however, his concern showed clearly through his usually unreadable behavior in the form of two worried blue orbs under a deep crease between his brows. "You don't look so good" Hatter added, since Jonathan wouldn't decide to drink his tea.

"Gee, thanks, you aren't half bad yourself" the psychiatrist grumbled.

"I mean maybe you're coming down with something. You are so pale, and you're shivering" the other man said, and put his palm on Jonathan's forehead to feel his temperature.

Crane pulled back so fast it almost gave him vertigos. He closed his eyes and propped his hands on the table to keep his balance, shrinking away from Jervis's touch.

"I'm fine, Jervis."

"No, you're not" the blond contradicted hastily. "You have a fever. Drink your tea, it'll help you warm up."

Jonathan didn't like being ordered around, but Jervis already seemed shaken enough to possibly throw a fit if he didn't do as he had been told; so he sipped his English Breakfast slowly, the burning liquid flowing like lava down his chilled body. Could it be that he really had a fever, after all.

Jervis was beside him as soon as he finished, and grabbed his arm. "You should go lie down and sleep a little" he suggested, dragging him toward the old couch Crane kept in his lab for the ever so rare breaks from his work. "Your experiments can wait, you're going to collapse if you go on like this."

As he was pulled and manhandled into a sitting position, Jonathan started to think his partner might be right: he really didn't feel good at all. Nevertheless, there were some tests he was running that absolutely couldn't be put aside, not when he was in the middle of the process.

But his head hurt so terribly. Not to mention the rest of his body…

"Just five minutes, Jervis. I want you to wake me up in five minutes" he said, telling Hatter to lower the flame of his Bunsen burner before carefully distending over the cushions.

The blond's eyes shone brightly; maybe he didn't expect such an easy victory.

"Don't worry, Jonathan. Five minutes sharp, and I promise I won't use my watch to keep track of time."

"You'd better. Wouldn't want to wake up after two days…" mumbled the psychiatrist a second before turning on his side and immediately dozing off.

xx

xx

Jonathan never felt his body so heavy before. And so sore. Almost like his flesh and blood had been substituted with concrete and then relentlessly jackhammered to pieces till he could do nothing but lying lifeless like a broken doll. He tried to lift his eyelids, but the sudden flash of light that he received forced him to instantly close them up.

Five good minutes rest should have made him more relaxed than before, instead he felt a lot worse. Damn Jervis and his advices.

Jonathan tried again to open his eyes, as cautiously as he could, to acclimate to the bright light in the room. The tattered end of an old flannel blanket was tickling his chin, and his clothes felt damp and cold from the pool of sweat he was lying into. He immediately spotted Jervis, sitting on a chair beside him, looking absorbed in some task he didn't immediately recognize. Then he noticed that the blond was wringing water from a rag, and leaned over to wipe away sweat from Jonathan's forehead. His hands were reddened from the tip of his fingers to the wrists, a sign that it wasn't the first time he carried out that duty.

"Good to see you're awake, Jonathan" said Jervis, keeping his voice low. "How are you feeling?"

Crane grimaced. "My head hurts, my bones feel sore, and my stomach's churning. If you really want to know, I feel like shit. And for fuck's sake, turn off the goddamn lights."

The Hatter smiled gently. "My, when you're upset you turn to such language… Anyway, no wonder you're hurting all over, I took your temperature while you were sleeping, and it was 104.8 °F. I think it might be flu, or something. And the lights are not so strong, my dear, it just appears so because you're sick. I took the liberty to cover you up to keep you warm, you wouldn't stop shivering."

Jonathan didn't doubt that, and his first instinct was to curl safely under the blanket, but his sense of duty told him otherwise. He still had a job to finish, and that couldn't be postponed, if he wanted it ready for the next heist.

He made an effort to rise to a sitting position. Jervis's hand instantly landed on his chest, pushing him down.

"What the hell, Jervis?" the taller man grumbled.

"You shouldn't even think of standing up and work when your fever is so high. Take some Tylenol, go to bed and rest a little more. Your experiments are not going anywhere. Besides, you slept for two hours already, I turned everything off."

At that, mindless of the pain he was in, Jonathan sat upright and jolted on his feet, heading to his working desk. Everything was still, the liquid in the flasks had turned a sickening brownish shade, and the flame of the Bunsen burner was off.

"Who told you to turn it off?!" shouted Crane, turning rapidly to face Jervis. The latter was still sitting, but sensing the possibility of conflict in the air he quickly stood up. Nature didn't provide Jervis with such a stature that he could hope to appear menacing, but he preferred to face danger while standing as tall as he was allowed.

"The liquid in the flask was diminishing too much; I'm not a chemist, but I guess it wasn't supposed to do that. So I thought to turn it off before something burned" Hatter said, and he sounded so very reasonable, unlike many other times, that Jonathan understood his partner was right and felt his anger double.

"Why didn't you wake me up?!" he shouted, punching his fist on the table and making all the glassware rattle for a dangerous second. "We agreed to five minutes rest!"

"I was worried, ok?" Jervis uttered, one octave higher. He was starting to feel edgy, and wrung his reddened hands nervously. "Your fever was so high you were out for hours. Influenza can be serious, I shouldn't be the one to tell you how much. What if you got worse? Then what would I do?"

Crane paced stomping his feet until he was a few inches away from Jervis, and began poking him in the chest with his index finger to emphasize every word.

"Oh, you were worried?! Well, nobody asked you, you're not my mother! Now my experiment is ruined, and it's all your fault! Do you have any idea how much effort and time it had cost me?!"

The blond swatted away his finger and frowned, raising his voice even more.

"No need to shout, Jonathan! I didn't do it on purpose. My main concern was your health, I couldn't care less about anything else. I'm sorry I ruined your work, but sue me for wanting to be a good boyfriend and take care of my man when he obviously wouldn't take care of himself!"

Maybe it was the fever, or the agitation of their verbal fight, but Jonathan saw red.

"Just because we fuck each other it doesn't mean you have the right to meddle with my life. Why don't you mind your own business, for a change? You're a grown man, you don't have to cling to me all day and pretend you're looking out for me when instead you're just alleviating your loneliness. And I'm not your man, stop considering this relationship like one of your fairytale liaisons!"

Shocked baby blue eyes widened so much Jonathan could see the whole circles of the irises among a sea of white.

"So that's what it really is for you?" Jervis whispered between half-closed lips, barely audible. "That's all I am to you?"

Jonathan suddenly felt a pang of guilt hitting his heart. He didn't mean to sound so unpleasant, but what was done was done, and he stood his ground, glaring at his partner with merciless eyes. He said nothing.

Jervis's hands balled in trembling fists on his sides, his face a mask of hurt. Without saying a word, he turned on his heels and exited the room, slamming the door behind him.

The psychiatrist let out a sight and rubbed a hand on his forehead. Now that the adrenaline from the fight was wearing off, he felt sick again, if possible even more than before. Without a warning his legs gave in, and he had to put a hand on the table for support.

Like he didn't already have too much to worry about…

Well… no use to try and salvage what he could from his experiments, he was sure they were all pretty much ruined for good. Instead he decided that, given his conditions, following Jervis's advice and rest a little more wouldn't be such a bad idea. All in all, he shouldn't have been so mean to him.

Just as he was about to head to the couch again, he felt all the blood drain from his face, a very unpleasant feeling that made him dizzy in the head and his eyes unfocused. Then came the cold, the kind that brings unbearable shivers even when the temperature isn't so low; and finally the most painful abdominal spasms he ever had forced him to run straight to the sorry excuse of a bathroom they had in that lair.

He barely made it, before doubling over to the toilet and throwing up what seemed to be his lunch, since he didn't eat dinner. Acid liquid burned his throat as it passed, making him gasp for a breath he couldn't catch. After a minute it looked like it was over, but then it began again, and he fell knees down on the dirty tiles with the crashing sound of bones against ceramic. Jonathan grasped the toilet seat with both hands, hoping it would be over soon. From his forehead and his damp bangs little droplets of sweat slipped profusely, some of them ending up in his eyes; he bet they were originating directly from the boiling mass that was his brain, 'cause maybe now the fever was so very high his insides were cooked like an egg.

He felt grateful when everything became blissfully black.

xx

xx

Jonathan woke up shivering and with a bad taste in his mouth. When he opened his eyes he was met with the sight of a couple of cockroaches scampering around the filthy tiles of the bathroom. It was quite disgusting, especially considering that his right cheek was pressed flat on that same floor, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

For now, his only concern was that he was shaking so much even his teeth rattled, and he couldn't move. No wonder, after having been spread out on a freezing floor for God knows how long. His eyes were glassy and shiny, and he bet ready to explode from his throbbing head any minute.

It took him a while to focus his gaze on the surroundings, but when he did he found a very serious Jervis Tetch staring intently at him. The Hatter was sitting on a chair that looked like it had been brought there specifically to let him enjoy the show, one leg crossed over the other and his chin propped on his right palm.

Jonathan stretched his weak arms and embraced the toilet, trying worthlessly to get up. His breath came out in deep, pained pants, as if that simple act too became an unmanageable task.

"Jervis…" he tried, when the cold became so unbearable he couldn't feel his legs anymore. "I need…"

"What is it that you need, Jonathan?" the blond interrupted, leaning toward him. That froze Crane on the spot: he never heard such a venom in that voice. "Help, maybe? But I thought you could do perfectly alone, you always had, after all, isn't that so?"

Jervis stood up, and walked two steps ahead, then he knelt down on his heels, crossed his arms and watched him with a little smile that bore a lot of malice. "Though you'd better hurry up. Your fingers and lips are blue, you're sweating and shaking with every inch of your life, and your face is pale… Almost _deadly_ pale, if you ask me. You know that people still die from flu, nowadays?"

Another shiver ran through his body, but not one of cold.

"Jervis… please…"

The shorter man said nothing and returned to his chair, sitting comfortably.

"Don't 'Jervis, please' me. You're such a pathetic sight, I wonder what people would say if they saw you now; they won't be scared anymore of such a sorry excuse of a human being lying exhausted on the floor and hugging a toilet because he's not able to stand up on his own. But don't worry too much, that's where the likes of you belong, to a filthy ground crawling like the pitiful things you are."

Jonathan's chest felt heavy; if he let the man continue, he would go on all night and that would possibly make him a goner.

"Bring me… some…"

_Some acetaminophen, 'cause the fever is making me delirious; some blankets, 'cause it's really too cold to bear; anything, please, just do something… _

"But you know?" Jervis continued, as if he didn't heard him, his tone raising with every word. "I love you anyway. Even if you're horrible with me, and even if you constantly push me away. I love you with all my heart, but you don't care!"

Jonathan saw tears perched at the corners of his blue eyes, swelling and menacing to flow freely. He would have tried to ask for help again, but the words died in his mouth at that sight.

"How could you always say such awful things to me?! Me, who would give my life for you! You're nothing but a heartless bastard who deserves all the shit he gets! So I'm really nothing to you? Well, help yourself… Oh, sorry, you can't! Then go ahead and die, see if I care!"

He was openly crying now, huge tears rolling down his cheeks and leaving darker round marks on his trousers. Jervis rubbed his eyes to wipe them away, but he only manage to make a wet mess of his face.

"Don't you think I deserve more than this after all I offer? The least you could do would be treat me with some manners, show me some love every now and then. Just a simple gesture, I'm not asking much! Why must I always fall in love with people who end up breaking my heart? You really want to hurt me bad, don't you? Is this what you want?"

The little blond covered his face with his hands, sobbing. How could he make such a scene when his boyfriend was practically dying on the ground, Jonathan didn't know, but with Hatter everything was possible.

The strange fact was that, in the middle of all this drama, he was starting to feel sorry for how he had treated the poor man. After all, as annoying as he was, he just wanted to help. Being nasty was Jonathan's way to keep everyone at arm length, whether they were good or bad to him; it had worked so well so far, he didn't take into account that it could have made him an ass with the one person who really loved him.

Of course, being said person insane didn't make things any easier.

It took all the strength Crane had left to reach out a hand and speak.

"Jervis… S… sorr…"

Hatter took his hands away from his face. When he noticed him stretching out his arm he stood up and knelt beside him again, taking Jonathan's frozen hand in both his hot ones.

"What is it, my dear?" the blond asked, his face a mischievous mask drenched in sincere tears.

"Sss… so…" Jonathan panted, struggling to focus enough to put the words together and force them out of his mouth.

"I'm afraid I can't hear you. You'll have to speak loudly; and say what you mean, instead of meaning what you say."

Behind closed lids, Jonathan rolled his eyes. That little bastard was making him sweat blood for his forgiveness (and possibly his life). He decided that both were worth the effort.

"Jervis…" he panted, "I'm… I'm sorry…"

"You really are? For constantly hurting me with that dreadful behavior of yours, you mean?"

"…Yes…"

"And can I be sure that from now on you'll show me a little more respect? I only want to be the right person for you, Jonathan, I can't do it if you keep pushing me away. You need to learn that a relationship is made by two people."

_Anything_, Jonathan would have liked to say, _just help me, because if you don't I think I might really die on the floor of this stupid bathroom in an abandoned building like a complete fool_. He said nothing, however, for he felt on the verge of passing out again; he just squeezed Jervis's hand and looked at him with pleading fever-bright eyes.

At that, Jervis's heart melted, his tear stained face lightened up in a relieved smile as if nothing happened.

"Oh, Jon, I'm so happy we set things right. I was worried you would still be mad at me" he said, fondling Crane's cold hand.

_That's rich_, Jonathan thought. _Like you didn't practically torture me in order to have me say what you wanted to hear. You know what? Fuck you, just wait till I'm well again, and then I'll..._

Those were his thoughts, but truth was, that aside from the extorted nature of his apology, he really meant what he'd said. And the hands holding his were the most comfortable thing he could remember since a long time, even more than the blanket he wanted to be under or the air he would have liked to breath properly again. Chances were he was more insane than he believed.

Jonathan also thought that it was crazy he almost forgot his body was being consumed by the flu in favor to revel in the fact that his boyfriend had forgave him and that things between them were going to be the same as always. Maybe it was something he needed to discuss with the doctors, next time he ended up in Arkham.

A relationship like that surely wasn't healthy, but who cared? As long as he still had the love of the blond man knelt beside him and their hands entwined, he was happy even lying half-dead on the floor.

Though he would have been better in a bed, with some medicine in his system. He squeezed again the hand holding his to make Jervis notice.

"Oh dear, I'm sorry, I almost forgot you shouldn't stay here a second more. Forgive me, Jon." The blond proceeded to stand up and went behind him to clutch his armpits. He would have had to drag him all the way to the mattress they used as a bed. "Do you think you can swallow? I'll get you some tabs for lowering your temperature, so you can sleep this away. Now, let's get you to bed, I'll keep you warm, I promise. Poor thing, you must be exhausted."

So Jonathan felt himself being dragged all the way out of the bathroom. He closed his eyes and had the impression of being on a ship adrift in rough waters; he hoped not to throw up again. However, the moment his cheek touched the soft fabric of the mattress he could let out a sigh of relief and let himself go.

He slept and slept. Harder than he ever did. So much in fact, that he almost forgot where he was and who he was.

Jonathan had never felt so contented in his life, with a pleasant buzz in his head and an enjoyable heat by his side. He was almost sorry he had to open his eyes, but the smell of some aromatic smoke made him do it.

Their mattress was pushed in a corner, so he wasn't surprised to find Jervis sitting beside him in a way he could rest his back against the wall and at the same time put his right arm around Jonathan's shoulders and press his auburn head against his warm side. With his left hand, Hatter was holding a pipe and diligently puffing blue clouds of sweet-scented smoke.

After their argument, Jonathan almost expected Jervis to smoke something. The man did it to relax whenever he felt particularly stressed, and even though he usually chose a hookah, maybe this time he wanted something handier, just to have the opportunity to stay near him.

_How sweet_, the scientist thought dreamily, as if some time ago the two of them weren't quarreling terribly.

Jervis lowered his gaze, and noticed he was awake. He put the pipe down.

"Hello, love. I hope I didn't wake you up, but I desperately needed a smoke."

The other man forced himself to smile; he still didn't feel too good.

"Don't worry, I like the scent."

"I'd offer you a hit, but maybe it's better another tab of acetaminophen. How do you feel, now?"

Jonathan groaned. "Better than when we had our little chat on the floor."

"Sorry for that, Jonathan. You know my mood swings are almost as bad as yours; I was worried and angry, a wicked combination."

"I'll think about something nastier to do to you in the foreseeable future to compensate" Crane said, and snuggled closer to his side.

Jervis's bucktoothed grin shone in the dim light. "I'm sure you will."

"You still mad?"

The blond chuckled. "Of course I am. A single night sleep won't succeed where a whole team of psychiatrists had failed".

Jonathan poked him in the side. "You know what I mean."

Jervis laid down next to him and ran his hand through sweaty reddish hair, looking both lovingly and slyly at him.

"Say that you're my man."

Crane heaved a sigh. There were times when Jervis wore him out so much he'd got him in the palm of his hand, and after what happened before, he felt too tired to fight.

"I'm your man" he surrendered.

"And I'm yours" the blond said peacefully. "See? That wasn't hard. And to think we fought so meanly over nothing because of that ill-nature of yours. Take the advice of the Caterpillar next time, please: _Keep your temper_."

"I'm sorry I yelled at you," Jonathan confessed, "but it was just a fever, it will pass. There are more important things you could do than worry about me."

Jervis smoothed Jonathan's cheek with the back of his hand.

"I guess I'll never stop worrying about you."

Crane let his face being caressed and peppered with light kisses.

"Jonathan, you're so hot" Jervis whispered, sensing the feverish heat radiating from his companion.

"Now you notice" snickered Jonathan.

More giggles. "I never thought I'd saw the day you would make this kind of comments."

"Guess you're just a bad influence. Let some time pass and people will start to think we're married, or something."

At that, Jervis beamed and jumped upright. "Great idea, Jon! Let's get married! Let's get married right away!"

Jonathan put a hand on his face. "Please, save your craziest performances for when I'll get better. Same sex marriage isn't even legal in Gotham City."

"Who cares? We're rogues, since when do we follow the rules? C'mon Jonathan, I'm sensing this is might be just what we need. I even know how we could do it" the blond pleaded.

"Why is it so important to you?"

Jervis huffed like a child who'd been denied a candy. "At it again? Are you my man or what?"

The taller man grinned evilly but thought it was better not to push his luck. He took Hatter's face in both hands and brought him down till their foreheads touched.

"I'm not just that; I'm the only man I'll ever allow you to walk down the aisle with. Think you're in control? Sorry, but it's you who belong to me, and there's nothing you can do about it."

A soft laugh escaped Jervis's lips. "You know how to be romantic even when you're menacing."

The scientist let go of his face.

"Now let me sleep, God knows if I need it."

"I'll tell you a story, it'll help you have good dreams."

"Oh, please, don't treat me like a child."

"Jonathan…" Jervis warned. The other just groaned.

"Fine, have it your way. I'm sleeping anyway, so don't bother to add details I won't pay attention to."

Jervis hugged him tight and tucked them both under the blanket, then he started to narrate.

"So… Once upon a time, in a land far away from here, there was a Hatter who made his living by producing the best headgears money could buy, upscale and stylish, such high-fashion hats."

_Go figures_, Jonathan said in his mind before letting the words lull him. _At least he's not quoting Alice in Wonderland._

"He was really good at his work, but felt so lonely for he was quite an eccentric person, and nobody wanted to stay near him, not the girls nor the boys. Everybody made fun of him and treated him cruelly because he was easy to hurt. When loneliness became unbearable, he invented a very special hat, with the power to bring his mind away from reality and to a wonderful place full of joys and treats."

"However, all of that was an illusion, the Hatter did know. His life began to feel miserable again, in a way no artifice could give comfort to, so he decided to take off for a journey to find his special someone, the only person who could make his Wonderland real. He took his magic top hat and left, determined not to come back."

He had to admit, Jonathan thought sleepily, that Jervis was quite the narrator.

"Our hero wandered for weeks, then weeks became months, and months became years. One day he reached a haunted forest; people tried to warn him by telling him that once he entered the forest he would never be the same, for that place had the power to make every living being evil and insane. The Hatter considered that after all he had nothing left to loose, and decided to cross it anyway."

"When he was halfway through it, he met a monster. He was a tall and ghostly creature who told that his intentions were to scare him out of his wits and then eat him while his heart was taking the last beat, because he fed on fears, and needed his victims to dye frightened while in his stomach."

_That's me_… Jonathan was amused now.

"The Hatter was so scared he began to shake, but tried to reason with his opponent. He told him that he was willing to trade his life for his magic hat, the monster would find that item very useful for sure. However, the creature told him that the only thing that mattered in his life were terror, fear and all the like, so the man would better brace himself to be eaten. At that, the Hatter became curiouser and curiouser, and asked him why fear was so important to him. The monster responded that an evil witch had placed a curse upon him, taking away his heart and condemning him to terrorize every human he saw for the rest of his days."

Referring to his great-grandmother as a witch meant complimenting her, but Jonathan said nothing, and let Jervis go on.

"The monster would never have a friend, nor a lover, nor a family, because everyone would be scared of him, and people outside the forest would try to hunt and kill him because they considered him an abomination who should have never been born. Now, the Hatter started to cry, and when the monster asked him why he told that this story was too sad for him to bear, so it was ok for him to be eaten up if that would be worthwhile, just as long as the monster took his hat: it could create illusions, and maybe it would alleviate his sadness."

"The creature said that he wasn't interested in illusions. He wanted someone real, to hold, to cherish, to kiss. Hatter suddenly beamed with joy and said: 'That's exactly what I'm looking for'. He realized the forest had worked his magic on him, for he had fell madly in love with the monster and confessed his feelings to the bewildered creature, who objected: 'You're just a man, you can't love a monster." And our hero smiled: 'I'm not a common man, I'm a Hatter. You can stay with one of your kind, for this place had made me mad, and now I guess I'm a monster too.'"

_How utterly crazy_, _so very like you_, Jonathan snickered softly with closed eyes.

"The man, now calling himself the Mad Hatter, took his heart from his chest, and gave it to the monster as a token of love. The gift was accepted, it was even better than the magic hat. Even though the spell could not be broken, both of them found out that they didn't need to break the curse to be happy, not when they had each other. And so, the Hatter never got out of the haunted forest, both him and his companion became part of the legend."

"I'm impressed. That was quite a story, even if you made me be the monster" murmured Jonathan.

"Aren't you asleep yet?" Jervis gently reprimanded.

"It was unexpectedly interesting."

"What can I say? It's a gift. Maybe one day someone will make a book after this."

Jonathan yawned and nodded feebly. Jervis checked his temperature by placing a hand on his forehead: still hot, but better than before.

"Now go to sleep my love, and dream about the day when I'll put a ring around your finger."

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This story came out longer than I expected, so I decided to split it up in two chapters. See the next to read the part that gives credit to the title :)


	2. Chapter 2

xx

xx

Roger Mitchell had been an employee at the city hall for twenty-five years, and never would he have expected his life to be endangered.

Working at the office that formalized civil unions should be the safer job in the world, and look at him now: he was shaking like a leaf, sweating profusely and clutching his chest so hard his nails dug in the white fabric of his shirt. He felt as if he was about to have a heart-attack.

There was nothing but his desk between him and two of the most dangerous criminals of Gotham City, the Scarecrow and the Mad Hatter.

"Excuse me, sir," the Hatter started politely. "Is this the Registry Office for Civil Unions?"

Roger opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water; the collar of his shirt felt at least two sizes tighter.

The Scarecrow stepped forward, eyes flaming behind his burlap mask as he talked with a stern deep voice that made color drain from the poor man's face.

"He asked you a question."

The clerk began to stutter something unintelligible, eyeing the long, threatening blade of the scythe the villain was holding and that was currently looming over him.

"See? I told you that bringing my scythe was a bit excessive. Now he doesn't seem to be able to focus on anything else" stated the Scarecrow, fiddling affectionately with the blade of his weapon.

"Nonsense" Hatter smiled and shook his head. He reached for his partner and adjusted the noose around his neck like he would have done with a tie. "It's our wedding day, you've got to look at your best, Jonathan. I assure you that you make the most terrifying impression in this attire."

Scarecrow smiled, or seemed to, it was hard to tell with the mask, and gently stroked the other villain's cheek. "You flatter me. I bet you just want to hear me say how stunning you look."

Jervis blushed. "Why, you really think so? I just wore my best hat, that's all" he said, referring to the black top hat decorated with a 10/6 card, a silk blue ribbon and red and peacock-blue hatpins. With a pristine gloved hand, he toyed in mock embarrassment with the white rose in the buttonhole of his jacket. "Though maybe I should have painted this rose red, what do you say?"

"That there's no way you could look more beautiful to me."

Roger Mitchell decided to risk everything, now that the two rogues seemed too occupied to notice him. He crouched down and tried to walk little steps toward the door.

Then the sharp tip of the scythe landed with a loud thud on the table, two inches away from his head, stabbing the wood with such violence it made him jump out of his skin.

The Scarecrow had wielded his weapon so suddenly that even Hatter flinched, but contrary to Roger, he recovered quickly.

"And just where do you think you're going?" the taller criminal reproached. "You still have to answer our question, and don't try any tricks. I assure you that this blade is perfectly capable of cutting your stomach open, or your head off, depending on what you hold dearer. So, kindly tell us if this is the office we're looking for, because my patience is running thin."

It took all the courage the employee had left to speak.

"Y-yes, sirs… I-it is."

The Mad Hatter clasped his hands together. "Apparently I was right, Jonathan: second floor to the left."

"Lucky guess."

"Anyway, mister…" the blond squinted his eyes over his name-tag. "Mitchell, right? I believe you're the deputy marriage commissioner, if I'm not mistaken."

The man nodded.

"Perfect. You see, today we decided to celebrate our wedding, and we would like to know which and how many papers we need to sign in order to make it official. To sum it up, allow us to get legally married and then you're free to go, safe and sound."

Apparently, Roger Mitchell took his job very seriously, because even in that hazardous occurrence he dared to point out: "B-but sirs… You… you can't get married h-h-here. It's not… it's illegal…"

Jonathan huffed in deep annoyance, fished a tin canister out of his pocket, and dangled it under the clerk's nose. "Why don't we see if it's possible to die of fright? I never ran a test like that on a human subject before, and you're making me pretty curious. Do you want to show me what are you afraid of?"

The wild beats of the man's heart were so loud and fast they could almost be heard over the rattling of his teeth. Hatter however put a hand on his companion's arm.

"Jonathan, please, we agreed no experiments on our wedding day. Besides, if he dies we won't be able to obtain the documents we need."

"P-p-please sirs… Try to u-understand. I can't allow something like this, I'll l-lose my job, not to mention it's a c-crime."

Hatter shook his head as one would do with a particularly stupid kid. "I really wish you wouldn't be so difficult." He rushed forward and with a powerful swat he knocked a pile of papers off the clerk's desk to make room for himself; he took a 10/6 card out of his pocket and held it between his index and medium finger, then he rested his elbows on the wooden surface.

"You know what this is?" Jervis asked, presenting the card. Roger Mitchell swallowed hard: he read the newspapers, so he knew.

"Now, I can tuck this device behind your hear and instruct you to get us what we want, and no matter how adverse you are to this, you'll do it. But of course, that would deny my boyfriend the pleasure of seeing your terrified face, thus ruining what should be the happiest day of our lives. Then, I'll have to order you to jump from the Gotham Bridge to make amends, and don't doubt that you'll do that too."

"P-p-please, I… I beg you! I have a f-f-family…" pleaded the shocked employee.

"Me too" said Jervis, and pointed at Jonathan. "He's in this room right now, waiting for our union to become official, and come hell or high water, I'll make you do what it's needed for this to happen. Now's you're choice: you can make things a lot easier on your own volition, or I can make them for you, and it won't be pleasing."

Roger Mitchell never worked so fast in his life. Luckily he had all the right documents in his office, and he could modify the details with his computer and then print the new papers with the copy-machine. He didn't even wanted to think about all the laws he was breaking; the only thing he was worried about now was to avoid his imminent death. He felt the two rogues' eyes on him and thought of himself as a wounded animals surrounded by vultures who were just waiting for him to give a sign of weakness before devouring his fragile body.

"S-sign here… and here… and here" Roger pointed on the papers. Jervis did, and when Jonathan approached to do the same, the employee almost had a breakdown.

"So, would that be all?" asked the Scarecrow, inserting the papers safely in one of his pockets.

"Yes, sirs… absolutely sirs…"

"Oh, I almost forgot!" said Jervis, before taking a small velvet box out of his cobalt coat's pocket. He opened it and revealed two shiny platinum wedding bands, simple but elegant. "What wedding would that be without the rings?"

Jonathan smiled, and examined one of the jewels. He saw there was something carved inside the band. It said: '_Wear me'_, in elegant cursive script, followed by his name and the current date. He was amused.

"You couldn't renounce to your Wonderland antics, I see."

"Nope" snickered the shorter man. "But for our honeymoon I'll let you do anything you want."

Jonathan took the blond's hand and removed the white glove before letting the ring slide smoothly on his finger. The whole process made Jervis tremble with joy like a kid in Candyland, and continued to do so even when he did the same, putting the ring on Jonathan's bony digit.

The two rogues held their hands and stared lovingly in each other's eyes for what it looked like an endless time. When Roger Mitchell finally thought it was over, Jervis turned and stared at him mildly annoyed.

"Don't we get at least some words to accompany the celebration? We didn't go to a church just because Jonathan isn't much the religious type, but I want things done properly."

The city hall employee looked like he was about to cry.

"But I… I'm not a-a priest, I wouldn't know…" And besides, any formula should have been said before the ring exchange, but the clerk didn't find the guts to say so.

Jervis's smile was falsely soothing. "I'm sure you can come up with something. And if you have any trouble, _speak in French when you can't think of the English for a thing_."

Roger made his best to remember all the romantic movies he saw with his wife, searching in his memory for one that held a wedding scene in the plot. Now he really wished he didn't fall asleep mid-movie.

"D-dearly beloved, we are gathered here today, in the sight of God and this company…"

"What company? There's only the three of us" protested the Scarecrow. "Cut it short and come to the best part."

_When this is finished_, thought Roger, _I'm gonna book a whole five years appointments with a very good shrink_. He continued, and assumed it would be best to use their normal names instead of their rogue titles; he hoped it was the right choice:

"Well, uhm… Do you, Mr J-J-Jonathan Crane take Mr Jervis Tetch, to be your lawfully wedded husband; to h-have and to hold from this day forward, for better, or for worse, for richer, or for poorer, in sickness, and in health? With r-r-respect for his integrity and faith in your union, do you promise to unfailingly seek out the best you can in him, lo-loving him every day, in every way, until the end of your forever? If so, please answer: I do."

"I do" promised Jonathan.

"And do you, Mr Jervis Tetch take Mr Jonathan Crane, to be your lawfully wedded husband; to have and to hold from t-this day forward, for better, or for worse, for richer, or for poorer, in sickness, and in health? With respect for his in-integrity and faith in your union, do you promise to unfailingly seek out the best you can in him, loving him every day, in every way, until the end of your forever? If so, please answer: I do."

He was glad he said this all so quickly he managed to stutter only a few times, for it could have been a matter of seconds before his poor heart gave in.

"I do!" exclaimed Jervis joyfully.

"It is… Oh, God!... It is with great pleasure that I now pronounce you, uhm… husband and husband, yes… You may k-kiss the husband" he said, to no one in particular.

Jervis stood on his tiptoe and lift Crane's scarecrow mask up, revealing his face like a groom would lift a bride's veil, and the two rogues sealed their mouth together in a deep kiss, eyes closed and cheeks rosy. It would have been the most romantic of scenes, if you didn't consider the circumstances and the clerk held hostage.

When they finally separated for breath, they appeared not just happy, but radiant.

"The whole world will die with envy as soon as it becomes aware of my luck. Thank you so much Mr… Mitchell, right?" chirped Jervis.

"S… so it is over, right? Can I go, now?" pleaded Roger Mitchell, hands joined together in front of him.

Jonathan lowered his mask, put an arm around Hatter's shoulders and pulled him close.

"He's already hyperventilating, the toxin will affect him in no time, but you, my love, would have to hold your breath for a little while." Then he took the same canister he had used to threaten the employee.

Jervis snuggled close to him grinning manically, and Roger instantly understood what was about to happen.

"But… But you said you would have let me go! Please, don't do this!"

"And we'll let you go. Right after I hear you scream in agony, if you don't mind. It's our wedding, everything should be perfect, and your delightful fear would be the cherry on top" explained Scarecrow, a moment before spraying the man with his fear toxin.

On his behalf, they had to admit the man tried valiantly to resist, but after six seconds he was screaming and hollering and clutching his head on the floor, face red and swollen and mouth agape.

"That's music to my ears" relished Jonathan.

"Our song" added Jervis dreamily, as if having a man shrieking in hysterics on the floor was the equivalent of a fine orchestra playing.

"Now let's flee before someone ears him. We have a plane to catch."

Getting out of the city hall was almost as easy as getting in, at least when you passed from the roof. The Mad Hatter and the Scarecrow towered over Gotham, admiring the city skyline one beside the other, as happy as they could be.

"I just hope that the Bat won't come here ruining the day. It would be very rude of him, that man simply has no respect" said Jervis.

"Don't worry, he won't come" Jonathan assured.

"How can you be so sure?"

"You'll see…"

As if his words had set something off, a loud explosion boomed in the otherwise quiet air. In the far end of the city, they could see a cloud of black smoke raising to the sky.

"What's that?" asked the blond.

Jonathan shrugged.

"I just told Harley Quinn I needed a favor: that I was going to get married and I needed her to deflect the attention of a certain flying rodent. You know how romantic she is, she agreed without even thinking, and told me she would create the right amount of chaos so no one would have disturbed us. Of course, when she moves, the Joker moves; he wouldn't pass the opportunity to annoy Batman, and that's where the explosion comes from."

Impressive, Jervis had to admit. "I thought you did this only to please me. Instead you planned everything to make it impeccable. You're a true sweetheart."

Jonathan bent down and kissed him on the lips.

"Be sure not to call me that in public, I have an image to keep up. Come on now, it's a long road from here to the airport, and we need to catch the flight to our honeymoon. We can wreak some havoc along the way, if you want."

Jervis returned the kiss with doubled enthusiasm.

"You know I'm always up to some quality time with you, Mr Crane-Tetch."

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Pretty silly, isn't it? But I always wanted to write both a sickfic and a wedding scene, so here they are.

I hope you enjoyed reading this as much I did writing. See you next time!


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